


Games

by starhawk2005



Category: NCIS
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Het, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossing his fingers that Ziva won’t kick the shit out of him, he reaches across and hits the emergency stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I like to play more _adult_ games,” Ziva informs Tony, bending slightly forward over his desk.

He grins slowly, mischievously, but he says nothing for the moment. With his luck, the Bossman will show up halfway through Tony’s ‘investigation’, and smack him one across the back of the head.

So Tony waits until he and Ziva are alone in the elevator. 

“So,” he starts, “’Adult games’, Ziva? Like what? Handcuffs? French maid outfits?”

She turns and looks at him, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Tony?”

“Oh, I would,” he agrees, “That’s why I’m asking.”

She rolls her eyes and looks straight forward again. “I’m not telling you.”

“Oh, I think you _want_ to tell me,” Tony says, sidling closer. “You brought it up, after all.”

“Only you could make a ‘wind guitar’ conversation into something sexual, Tony,” she says dismissively.

“That’s _air_ guitar,” he corrects her. Damn, they’re almost at the basement level already. Crossing his fingers that Ziva won’t kick the shit out of him, he reaches across and hits the emergency stop.

Ziva snaps around to stare at him. “What are you doing, Tony?”

She’s acting really pissed off, and Tony almost changes his mind, but nobody will ever accuse Anthony DiNozzo of being a coward.

“Extending our very interesting conversation. C’mon Ziva, what games do you like to play? Blindfolds, feathers….whips?”

Her eyes narrow and she purses her lips, disapprovingly. Finally, she proclaims, “It doesn’t matter, Tony. You couldn’t handle me.”

The words are out of his mouth before he gets a chance to think about them. “Maybe I’d like to _try_ ,” he says archly.

Time seems to freeze. Ziva just stands and stares, and Tony is frozen, too. Wondering if he’s about to be karate-chopped to within an inch of his life by an enraged former Mossad agent.

When she moves, it’s _fast_ , and suddenly Tony is pushed back hard against the wall of the elevator, but it’s her mouth that she’s using to attack him. And, he is interested to note, her tongue follows. 

They’re kissing, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck even as his arms wind around her waist, and even though this has the potential to change everything, Tony doesn’t care. 

They finally break apart, but Tony is uncertain all over again, as Ziva turns away from him and wordlessly restarts the elevator. Is she just going to ignore what just happened? Are things going to go on between them as if that kiss didn’t happen? 

If it does, does he have the cojones to try to pull this kind of stunt again?

The doors open, and Ziva briskly steps out ahead of him…and then stops dead. Still facing away from him, she informs him: “Tonight, my place. Bring a bottle of wine….and your handcuffs.”

She stalks off right away, without even waiting for an answer, but Tony doesn’t mind. He’s too busy grinning like a lovesick idiot and humming the theme from  Mission : Impossible to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s breaking one of Gibbs’ Rules, but somehow it doesn’t matter.

Tony is still humming the Mission Impossible theme as he stands in front of Ziva’s door, bottle of expensive wine in one hand, roses in the other, handcuffs stuck in his jacket pocket.

He’s breaking one of Gibbs’ Rules, but somehow it doesn’t matter. He and Ziva have been dancing around this for months, and the truth is, Gibbs can’t control everything. Tony learned that unwelcome lesson when Director Vance made him an ‘agent afloat’. If Tony could lose his job at any time, at the whim of a bureaucrat, no matter how hard he works for Gibbs? Then _screw_ the Rules. 

When Ziva opens the door, Tony has to catch his breath. Her hair is down, her dress dark purple and spaghetti-strapped, and Tony can’t help grinning like an idiot.

“The wine and handcuffs you ordered, Officer David,” he announces, holding the bottle out to her. The flowers, too.

“Thank you, Tony,” she says, eyes gleaming in that mischievous way of hers. “Come in.”

He does, barely getting his coat off before checking out the décor. It’s not as austere as he might have expected, but it’s not exactly girly. Not a ruffle or a frill to be seen. But the couches look like real leather, and Tony wonders what it would be like to have sex on them.

Dinner is delicious, though Ziva admits halfway through that she didn’t cook it. Thank God for take-out Italian. 

Their dinnertime conversation is much like their work banter. Tony makes a statement, flirty or otherwise, and Ziva lobs it back at him with a quick retort. Tony makes movie references that make Ziva furrow her brow in confusion, and Ziva butchers popular English expressions right and left, though Tony is a little less adamant than usual about correcting her.

Finally, the moment arrives. Ziva takes Tony’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. It’s much like the rest of the place – not terribly girly, but cozy enough.

She drapes herself along one side of the bed, patting the other side invitingly. “Why don’t you lie down, Tony? And give me the handcuffs.”

He’s grinning like an idiot again, he can’t help himself. When she kisses him, plucking the handcuffs from his palm, his head swims. He can’t believe they’re about to-

She pushes his hands above his head, and clicks the handcuffs into place before his wine-and-kiss-befuddled mind has a chance to catch on.

“Ziva, what-“

“You didn’t really think I’d let you handcuff _me_ , did you, Tony?” she breathes into his ear. “Or that I’d really sleep with you on the first date? I’m not that…how do you call it? ‘ _Easy_?’”

She nips his ear, making him jump, then coolly gets off the bed, throwing an amused glance back at him over her shoulder. “I have a few errands to run, Tony. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Wait, Ziva-!”

But she’s gone. She’s gone, and Tony can’t believe this. What, is she going to find Tim and a webcam so she can record the moment, humiliate him at work? Maybe she’s gone to get Gibbs? Oh my God.

Maybe he _shouldn’t_ have made fun of those pictures of her at work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes, as he lies there cursing to himself and trying to squeeze his hands out of the handcuffs (uselessly), but it feels like forever.

Tony loses track of time. It’s probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes, as he lies there cursing to himself and trying to squeeze his hands out of the handcuffs (uselessly), but it feels like forever. He starts at every creak, sure that any second the bedroom door will open, and Gibbs will be standing there staring at him. Tony’s not sure what would be worse, Gibbs’ ire, or his disappointment.

When the door finally opens, though, it’s only Ziva again, still wearing that mischievous look. “Ziva! Let me up,” Tony begs.

“I don’t think so, Tony. This is too much fun. I think I like this ‘payback’ thing,” she says, sashaying slowly into the room, kicking off her shoes at the foot of the bed.

“OK,” Tony says, gritting his teeth. “Whatever I did this time, I apologize. Hell, I apologize for EVERYTHING I’ve ever done. _Sincerely._ Just please, undo the cuffs, willya?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Tony,” she says, climbing up on the bed…and then settling herself onto him, straddling his hips. She has to pull up the skirt of her dress quite a bit to do so, revealing a lot of shapely calf and thigh, and Tony’s struck dumb. This is suddenly not so bad.

“I think I prefer you this way,” she adds, leaning down and kissing him aggressively.

“You…don’t say,” he answers weakly when she finally pulls away to let him breathe. He’s no longer so sure he wants to get away.

When she starts to slowly unbutton his dress shirt, he’s pretty sure he wants to stay, actually. But he also wonders what the Hell is going on. He thought she wasn’t interested at all in things going _that_ way. Is this another trick?

Her hands skim over his bare skin, and he groans and closes his eyes. _What are you doing?_ he wants to ask, but he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

She’s still smiling, watching his reaction as she caresses him, then she shifts backwards, brushing agonizingly slowly across the bulge in his pants as she does so. She settles herself on her knees, hovering above his thighs, her smile widening as she pulls down the zipper of his fly.

“Ziva, what are you…I thought you didn’t want to-?” the questions burst out of him at last, fuelled by equal parts confusion and lust.

“I lied,” she admits. “I was – how do you say it? - ‘pulling your rope’.”

“That’s ‘yanking your chain-‘” Tony tries to correct her, but by this time she has his briefs pulled down and is lightly running her fingernails down his throbbing shaft, and he doesn’t have any interest in English lessons anymore.

“Oh God, Ziva,” he moans. He thought being with her would be good, but not _this_ good.

When she produces a condom from somewhere like a magician doing a trick, he says nothing, just watches in a daze as she unrolls it onto him. She shifts forward again, her dress falling around his groin, and he doesn’t get the chance to see her, but he can certainly _feel_ her, as she engulfs him in slippery heat. “Oh God, Ziva,” he gasps again. Not exactly original, but it expresses his feelings perfectly.

It’s pleasure and torture at first, Ziva moving slowly, easily, riding him with no apparent urgency. She looks composed, almost as if she’s doing nothing more than writing a letter to home, but the beads of sweat appearing on her face and shoulders, and her slowly increasing pace, belie her detachment. 

Faster and faster she moves, and Tony can feel the slow build-up, the approach of the cliff’s edge, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like this, trapped deep inside her, enveloped in the folds of her dress, chained to her bed. If he ever wanted to write a Pentehouse letter, this would surely be candidate material.

He doesn’t know if Ziva climaxes, because he loses all sense of everything but the feel of her, and the feel of his own explosion tearing through him, blotting out everything else.

When his mind finally clears, she’s backing away from the bed, again smoothing her dress down and tossing him the handcuff keys. Except for the glimmer on her skin and the flush in her cheeks, the increase in her breathing, you’d never know what Ziva had just been doing.

“Where are you going?” Tony asks, fumbling with the key, but she’s still backing towards the door, and he knows she’s going to escape before he frees himself.

“Keeping some of my mystery, Tony,” she explains. “Thanks for the flowers.”

She’s gone.

Tony unlocks the cuffs, then lies there bonelessly, catching his breath. _My. God._ She can keep her ‘mystery’ as long as she wants, if incredible sex like this is the result. That’s just fine with him. Let Gibbs find out, he doesn’t care any more. Either way, it’s worth it.


End file.
